


Rainy Morning

by shenala



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Soft Stucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 13:10:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18692149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shenala/pseuds/shenala
Summary: Just two boys and a rainy morning.





	Rainy Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Written while sitting in my own doorway watching the rain fall. It's a good way to start a day.

It was cold, despite the early May date, and it was raining.  
These two things he knew before he'd even blinked his eyes awake. Just as he knew from the warm press of the body behind him that it was still too early for his husband to be joining him in the land of the living. 

Of course, any time when there wasn't fresh coffee brewed and hot, buttery toast waiting was too early by Bucky's standards, and while Steve might have finally kicked the habit of having one foot already laced up in running shoes before dawn, he was still the first to get up in the mornings. 

Slipping silently from under the covers he stooped to grab a discarded hoodie from the floor before making his way downstairs to the kitchen because while the pair didn't agree on the time of waking, they definitely agreed on the necessity of coffee... even if caffeine had a near-zero effect on them these days. 

In the years between waking up in a whole new world and restarting his life with Bucky, he'd drunk his coffee black. Not because he necessarily wanted to, he had no problem admitting that it did not taste good, but simply because a) that was how he'd always taken his coffee because there were no other options, and b) because now there were so many options with such nonsensical names that he had no idea where to begin. 

Now though, thanks entirely to the man snoring gently upstairs, every cup brought with it a flicker of joy as they worked their way through different creamers, syrups and coffees that came "already flavoured, Buck, how cool!" 

On this particular morning it was a hazelnut mocha that made its way into his favourite mug (a gift from Clint, it had the star from his shield aligned perfectly with the star from Bucky's arm) and from there into his cradled grasp. 

As Steve looked out of the kitchen window he found himself moving almost without deciding to move at all through their home and to the front door. 

A door which had more locks and bolts than any one entrance could ever possibly need but his attempts of "Buck, I don't think we need another bolt there" "Quiet Steve", and "Tony, it sounds real clever but we do actually need to be able to still open the door" "Yeah, yeah Cap, sure", had fallen on pretty deaf ears at the time. 

So now he methodically made his way through scanning his fingerprint, flicking back bolts, turning keys and putting in codes until he was able to open the door, quietly of course, and step out onto their front step before sinking to the floor in a surprisingly comfortable perch on their doormat (another gift, this time from Bruce, that said simply "home sweet home").

Covered by their porch he was able to sit dry and undisturbed in the entrance to their Brooklyn home, still cradling his coffee, and watch as the rain continued to fall and their neighbourhood began to wake up in earnest. 

Steve wasn't sure how long he'd actually been sitting there, thanks to the near-meditative effects of the cool air, rain and hot drink, but it had been long enough for him to slip out of his almost constant state of hyper-awareness which, in turn, meant, he was actually pleasantly surprised when a warm body sat down behind him, legs either side of his own and pulled him back against a comforting wall of Barnes. 

Bucky's own morning up to that point had consisted of waking up to find that, as usual, the other side of the bed had been vacated with just a lingering sense of the heat Steve had imbued there, before he too grabbed a sweater and made his way sleepily downstairs. 

Which was where he'd found his husband sitting in the doorway, drinking coffee and watching the rain, and letting all the warm inside their home out, although that last part was really only a minor grumble in his mind based on how calm Steve looked. 

Now wrapped around the blonde, his golden boy since the 20s, one arm wrapped around that broad no longer star-spangled chest to pull him back against his own, while the other effortlessly snatched the coffee from his lover's grasp so that he could steal a swallow or two. 

As Bucky handed back the mug with a smile he found it mirrored back at him as steel grey met ocean blue for the first time that day and hand wove it's way into the hair at the back of his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

"Morning Stevie" was mumbled into the crook of a neck before "Gmorning Buck" was kissed into a cheek and then the pair simply settled, effortlessly comfortable wrapped in each other as they watched the rainy morning around them. 

When Steve was next pulled from his reverie, an unknown number of minutes later, it was to Bucky gently rubbing the knuckle of his left pinky finger. By some strange quirk when it got cold and damp that joint, and only that one, would become stiff and sore. 

Of course, it was a long way from how his whole body would rebel against him before the serum, when cold, wet weather meant asthma attacks, pneumonia, constant sore throats and arthritis pretty much everywhere you could get it. And Steve found that he actually quite liked the fact that there was one small part of him that still acted that way. 

He also quite liked when, as he was doing now, Bucky would rub massage it, bringing warmth into the joint just as he had worked tirelessly to do decades before. 

Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one who had a physiological reaction to the weather and Bucky's was nothing so simple. From autumn, through the depths of winter and into the burgeonings of Spring like now, his shoulder would still bring stiffness and pain, even with the arm that Shuri had so meticulously designed to be as seamless and comfortable as possible. 

And as he dropped his head back to gaze up at the man behind him he could just see the edges of stiffness, too small for anyone else to notice, in his left side. 

"How's your shoulder, love?"

He felt more than saw the shrug that came in response, but it was enough for him to decide that it was time for them to move.

Once he was standing, he pulled Bucky up alongside him before shuffling them both back inside and going through the process of relocking the door. 

One arm wrapped heavy around the brunette's waist they then made their way to the kitchen with the promise of coffee, food and a shoulder massage.

It was only later that day when they were curled around each other on the sofa that Bucky thought to ask, "why were you sitting in the door this morning anyway?" 

As simple as the kissed temple that came with it the answer was just "felt like a good place to sit, Buck."


End file.
